


Collect Call

by Drakansa



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bottom John, F/F, Johnlock - Freeform, Lesbian Irene, M/M, Multi, Top Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2013-04-19
Packaged: 2017-12-07 07:37:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/745970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drakansa/pseuds/Drakansa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How I imagine Sherlock's return after The Reichenbach Fall should have played out. ;P</p><p>Sorry, I wrote this before the season after aired so some characters that are introduced later just don't exist at all in here.</p><p>I read a lot of JohnLock fic and while I enjoyed a lot of it there were some details that just didn't seem entirely believable to me. So I wrote my own. It's my first fanfic and I'm a newcomer to the fandom so please help me out if I made any errors :) I'm open to critiques! It's not quite finished yet, but this is what I've got thus far.</p><p>This draft is really rough so please bear with me. <br/>I've only added a little bit. I'm bad at follow through but if you're patient I should finish this eventually. There's not gonna be a whole ton to it, so I think I can get it finished up soon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Back to Baker Street

It had seemed like such a short time ago that Sherlock had last walked through the door to 221 B Baker Street, but as soon as he stepped across the threshold Sherlock was struck by how long it had actually been. Every item was very nearly exactly where Sherlock had left it when he had been dragged out of the flat by Lestrade. There was a messy little pile of papers sitting out on the desk where it looked like Mrs. Hudson had tried to pack up his things. The thick patina of dust, however, informed Sherlock that she had soon given up and not returned since. It did not look like John had entered the flat even once. Sighing, Sherlock pulled out his phone.

 

**Baker Street. Come at once if convenient.**

**SH**

John stared at his phone, not believing what he saw. This was not possible. He was dreaming. Again. He grabbed his coat and ran out into the street to hail a cab, not even caring that he had over paid for his breakfast - he didn’t have time to stop and count his money.

He was shouting before he even started up the stairs.

“Sherlock? Sherlock are you really here?” He stumbled on the last step at the top of the stars and slammed into the door. Standing calmly in the middle of the room Sherlock looked as well as ever.

“You shit. You BASTARD!” John pulled himself upright, leaning on the door. He blinked the tears away from his eyes hoping Sherlock hadn’t noticed them. “I am so unbelievably angry with you! What on earth did you think you were doing?”

“Oh John, calm down.” Sherlock turned and looked down at his violin, not wanting John to see how hurt he was by this greeting. He had thought he was prepared for the anger… “It’s primary school stuff, really… The snipers had orders to shoot unless I jumped. Moriarty shot himself so I couldn’t force the order to call it off out of him. I had no other choice – I couldn’t let them shoot you and Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson.”

“I see. You jumped to save us.” John walked slowly into the room, approaching Sherlock, “And didn’t you think for a moment that that was the wrong choice? That maybe it would be alright if they shot me? Sherlock, you are worth FIVE of me. The world needs you much more than it ever needed me. You jumped for pride, don’t try to tell me it was self-sacrifice when it was really you just SHOWING OFF.” John was standing quite close to him now.

“No, John. I jumped for you.”

“You have caused me so much trouble – so much INCONVENIENCE with your little stunt- do you even have any idea the work involved in the process of laying someone to rest and settling their affairs, the pain involved in the death of a lo- “ John stopped himself and continued more softly, “Of a friend?”

“Well I never had to go through that personally but I’m sorry if I caused you any INCONVENIENCE.” John could tell from the tilt of Sherlock’s cheekbones that Sherlock was becoming agitated. He started to turn away again but John pushed him before he could. Sherlock stumbled and fell backwards into his chair. John grabbed his wrist tightly and leaned in close to his face. He wasn’t even bothering to hide the tears in his eyes any longer.

“Just tell me Sherlock,” John’s breath tickled Sherlock’s ear “Do you even care about me at all? Even a little?”

“I jumped off a building for you and you still require that I make silly proclamations? Can you not simply examine the evidence?” Sherlock looked hurt.

“I am actually.” John paused for a moment, staring deeply into Sherlock’s eyes “I needed to observe you before I could continue. It wasn’t enough to merely see you. Accelerated heart rate. Pupils dilated. Sherlock, when you died I realized that there was something I had meant to tell you, something I had been thinking for a long time but couldn’t say. I needed to observe you like this first.” Sherlock suddenly looked scared.

“John, no- I’m not sure-“

“You didn’t hesitate to jump off a building and yet you’re scared to hear what I want to tell you?”

“John, I don’t want this to change US- I can’t” Sherlock looked down and sighed deeply, “I can’t lose your friendship. I can’t lose you. You’re too important to me.”

“Nothing you have done has managed to drive me away before. Why would this? All I want is for us to be even closer. Sherlock-“ John had to stop for a moment and swallowed past the lump in his throat, “Sherlock I love you.”

Sherlock looked up and saw John was smiling at him, a small, endearing, frightened little smile. Relief flooded through him and before he could stop himself Sherlock leaned forward and kissed him. He wrapped one arm around John’s waist and pulled him up onto the chair with him. To his delight John didn’t fight or resist or object, he just kissed him back passionately and deeply. John climbed onto the chair, straddling Sherlock, tucking one arm behind his neck and pulling him closer. He pulled away for a moment to catch his breath and panted “Oh Sherlock, how I missed you…” He caught Sherlock’s mouth with his own before the other man could answer.

Sherlock pulled back, his breath coming fast and heavy

"John-" john's insistent lips cut him off. He  pulled back again and put a hand on John's chest. "John listen." Sherlock said more firmly.

"No Sherlock." John leaned forward, "I want to make sure I kiss you as many times as I can. If this is another dream I don't want any more regrets when I wake up than I already have." John covered Sherlock's small finely sculpted lips with his own and proceeded to nibble them carefully. Sherlock moaned softly and momentarily gave in to John's onslaught.

"Wait- listen!" Sherlock gasped. "John I don't know where to go from here... I've never-" Sherlock trailed off, suddenly nervous. John giggled like a schoolboy, causing Sherlock to smirk wryly.

"It's ok... I've never slept with a man before either." John swooped in for another kiss but Sherlock pulled back again.

"No, I mean... Ever. With anyone." This caused John to pause.

"Never ever? Like... Never? What about you know..." John couldn't bring himself to say it.

"The Woman?" Sherlock supplied aptly "it was a near thing. I almost gave in to her, but I couldn't do it. I don't love her and it would have caused her to become more attached than she already is. I mean, I like her a great deal and I found that I was very attracted to her, but it was not love and I did not... You know. Lie with her."

"But why not?"

"I only keep the memories that matter. I told you this. If I commit to something physical it would be the first. Firsts are... special. I would want to keep it. But if I did that and it was subpar or the person unimportant I would be plagued with this frivolous memory that I would eventually just delete. Why even go through with it if it would create a memory not worth keeping?"

 "You know the simple explanation is just that you've been saving yourself. That's what normal people call that." John drank in the puzzled and thoughtful expression on Sherlock's face as he absorbed that bit of trivia.

"Oh."

"So you were saving yourself for... Me? Now? Is the time right?" John asked hopefully in what he wanted to think was a semi-joking tone.

"No." Sherlock retorted briskly. "Now you need to get up and greet Lestrade. He looks uncomfortable. I'll go say hello to Mrs. Hudson and see if she'll clean up some of this dust and maybe launder my bedding. I can't abide a dusty palace." Sherlock winked at John and patted him twice on the thigh to urge him to get moving. John looked up and sure enough there in the open doorway stood a very red faced inspector. John awkwardly struggled off of Sherlock's lap and stood, hoping the older man would not notice the tent pitched in his pants.

"If you gentlemen would just wait here for me, when I get back we can discuss the process of bringing me back to life." Sherlock stood and nodded to the inspector, walking quickly out of the room. John guessed he was trying to pretend he wasn't embarrassed.

"So um.. You heard...?" John began to ask haltingly.

"Everything." Lestrade finished for him with a nod and a frown. Both men spent an overlong amount of time looking everywhere in the room except for at each other. John clasped his hands self-consciously in front of himself. Suddenly they heard a scream from downstairs.

"Mrs. Hudson!" They cried out together, bolting for the stairs.

"Oh Sherlock you scamp!" She was panting and leaning against her table when they reached her door. "I thought I saw a ghost come back from the grave! Oh my bloomin stars!" She huffed and panted a bit. "Of course you still have a place to live. You thank your brother for keeping up your rent. Yes yes I'll clean up a bit but I'm not your housekeeper! Come ere you." She pulled him into a tight hug and held him close for a considerable amount of time. "Oh my am I ever so glad to see you. Go on you run and play now I'll get on it." She let him go and lifted a hand to her mouth. John could see tears glistening down her cheeks as she turned away.

The three men retreated back to the hallway. Sherlock cleared his throat and paused, his brain shifting gears. "Lestrade, I trust your men have gathered sufficient evidence to clear my name?"

"You have clear alibis for almost everything and no other evidence points to you. If we had arrested you we would have had to release you. You may have to face an inquiry over resisting arrest and taking an officer's gun."

"No matter. I trust the photographs my brother provided for my alibis were beyond scrutiny?"

"I don't know how your brother got so many pictures so fast but the chief accepted them without question. We released a statement shortly after your -ahem- death."

"I saw that but I wanted to double check. That statement along with John's very moving blog posts have gone a long way towards clearing my name but what we really need is to catch Moriarty."

"But he's dead!" John interjected.

"So was I." Sherlock smirked. "And yet here I stand."

"Pardon my stick in the mud attitude but I don't really want to play guessing games. What do you need from me?" Lestrade looked to be getting impatient.

"Yes. You. Would you please remind everyone at the station of my cleared name and direct me towards the paperwork required to come back to life? I trust there is some sort of protocol for this sort of thing."

"Geez Sherlock, how many other people do you honestly suppose come back from the dead - and don't say Jesus!" John was falling into his old habits of coaxing Sherlock into explaining his thought processes.

"When people go missing they can legally be declared dead after a certain period of time. Sometimes they come back and explain they were just taking an extended vacation or other such rubbish."

"It's true. Come on I'll give you guys a ride down to the station."

"You two go ahead." Sherlock waved a hand towards the door. "I want to get a few things from upstairs. I'll catch a cab and be there in twenty minutes or so."

John was loath to leave Sherlock behind, but didn't want to argue. Everyone at the station was suitably shocked by the news. Sally was incredulous and offended.

"We all sawr him buried! That prick should have just stayed that way." As Lestrade opened his mouth to answer her John's phone blipped in his pocket.

 

**I came for you and I came back for you**

**SH**

 

John stared at the text blankly for a minute before it sank in what Sherlock was trying to say. He blushed furiously as images of buried pricks filled his head uninvited. He was oblivious to the arguments going on around him and didn’t realize how much time passed until Sherlock suddenly strolled in. The taller man grinned wickedly and turned up his jacket when he saw John.

“Hello friends. Are we all playing nice?” He turned his smile on the two officers who were still bickering, although John had no idea what direction their conversation had gone. Sally huffed angrily and turned away.

“Hm. Yes. I have that paperwork all ready for you right over here. I also am supposed to tell you that we are officially no longer allowed to use your assistance on cases.” Lestrade turned and walked towards his office. Sherlock smartly kept pace with him and John trailed behind, still flustered.

“While that is very irritating I don’t think I shall want too much for things to do.”

“Oh I’m still going to come to you for help,” Lestrade corrected him, “Just not officially. I’ll leave you here for a while to sort this stuff out. Shouldn’t take too long – we just need basic information to get your health care, bank accounts, leases and other such things sorted out and passed back into your names. Once we had a case like this with a millionaire who’d gone missing in the Swiss Alps. It took months of legal battles to get his money back from his heirs and into his name. I trust this will be much easier.” With that Lestrade left the two alone. Sherlock sat right down and got to work.

“Sherlock-“ John had no idea what he wanted to say or how to say it.

“Oh come now John,” Sherlock was being deliberately provoking now, “Why so flustered? It’s a natural thing, especially after the welcome you gave me.”

“Yeah, well that doesn’t mean you have to tell me about it! Not when you know I’m in public.”

“What? Why not? I always know whenever you do it.” Sherlock chuckled as that shut John up and turned back to his paperwork. Suddenly he paused as a thought occurred to him. He turned to John, an intensely concerned expression on his face. “You aren’t really mad are you? Please don’t be mad I don’t want to fight.”

John looked down at him and his heart melted. “No, of course not Sherlock.” He smiled weakly and Sherlock sighed with relief.

“Oh good. I was worried that if we became… more than friends I would do something stupid and make you angry and drive you away. I don’t know how to be a boyfriend.”

“That’s twice in one day! It must be a sign of the apocalypse.” John laughed.

“What’s that now?” Sherlock turned back to his paperwork again.

“Twice that you’ve admitted to not knowing something.” John walked over and kissed Sherlock gently on the head. “Don’t worry so much.”

John didn't add what he was thinking - that he was the one who should be worried. Suddenly the euphoria of Sherlock's return began to wear off and the reality of John's actions to sink in. It wasn't a dream. He had kissed his best friend. Thinking back on it he had been rather more forceful with his affection than he had meant to be. Was Sherlock just going along with it until something better presented itself?  Maybe something like the brilliant, challenging consulting criminal that Sherlock suspected was still alive despite all of the evidence to the contrary.

"Well that was easy." Sherlock said setting his pen down on the table. "John? What are you moping about now? I thought we made up. Make yourself useful and go get the Inspector Detective so we can move on to something interesting."

John's anxiety increased. He reminded himself as he left the small room that Sherlock had initiated the kissing. Sherlock and pretty much sexted him less than an hour after coming back. Doing his best to shake his sudden insecurities John went and found Lestrade. But still the feeling of being not ENOUGH for a great man like Sherlock nagged at him. He decided to be more reserved from now on. He didn't want to give his everything to Sherlock only to be pushed back into the role of friend-and-blogger once Moriarty showed up.

Through the battery of phone calls notifying his family and the press of his return Sherlock either did not notice John's morose mood or did not feel it necessary to comment on it.

The day progressed quickly. Sherlock went out by himself once he finished everything that needed doing at the station. He claimed he had some loose ends to wrap up. John settled with the motel he had been staying at. He was not sorry to finally be leaving that place. When he first went there he had intended to stay for only one or two nights while he gathered his wits and decided what to do with Sherlock's things. Two nights had so quickly turned into three months. It was expensive but John cut costs by eating little and going out very seldom. He had done almost nothing but eat and sleep and work while he had thought Sherlock was dead. He thought back on how terribly depressed he had been. There were times when he was so low he wasn’t sure if he could go on... but he tried not to think about that. Perhaps he still was a little depressed, come to think of it. It was like a bad habit of negative thinking that he just couldn't shake.

He packed his things back into his duffle bag and carted them all back to 221 B. He was finally going back home. 

When he walked in Mrs. Hudson was already half done dusting the living room.

"Oh dearie can you believe it's true?" She cried out cheerfully. "When you came rushing in I thought you were just having another one of your episodes but it's true! He really is back! I just can't tell you how happy I am. Here, you take a rag and we'll have this place spic and span in no time. " John tucked his bag in his old room and set in to the cleaning with gusto. The mind numbing chore helped clear his head, like he was cleaning cobwebs from the corners of his mind and not just the ceiling. The refrigerator was the worst part. Something cerulean was growing in the ziplock bag full of livers of deceased alcoholics that Sherlock had insisted on bringing into the house a week before his disappearance. Even after they threw away every single item, bowls plates and all, the smell lingered. Mrs. Hudson decided the only thing to do was run to the store for a dozen boxes of baking soda.

"It's getting a bit late in the evening so I'm going to grab a bit to eat while I'm out. Would you like anything?" John shook his head. "Right-o then, I'll leave you to it. I'll have Sherlock's bedding back to you in an hour or two. I haven't got yours yet so you'll either have to wait up or sleep on the couch." John nodded to her and helped her out with the bag of sheets and blankets. When she left he felt like a support had been pulled out from under him and collapsed onto the couch, emotionally exhausted.

He didn't know how long he had been asleep when he heard the door crash open.

"John! There you are! Why didn't you answer my text?"  Sherlock looked flustered and concerned.

 Blearily John pulled his phone out and glanced at the message.

"Sherlock, you sent this three minutes ago." John yawned.

"Yes. Ten minutes after she left. Are you ok? It's not like you to sleep so deeply so early in the evening."

"Yeah. Just coping with a lot of things going on at once I guess." John shrugged, trying to play it off. He did not tell Sherlock about how much he had been sleeping the past few months, or how hard it was for him to get out of bed, or how it hurt to laugh and it hurt to cry and it hurt to breath in a world without Sherlock in it.

Sherlock studied him carefully for a moment and then seemed to accept it. John wondered if the folds of his clothes of the smell of his hand soap or some other small detail that meant nothing to him was giving tell to his lie but if it did Sherlock said nothing about it.

"I found a lead out in Kentvale. Someone who works at the funeral parlor said Moriarty's casket was empty and only his brother knew about it. I'm going to talk to the brother." Sherlock sat next to him on the couch began unbuttoning John's shirt as he spoke. John wasn't sure what Sherlock's goal was but happily helped with the process, leaning back against the arm rest. "When Mrs. Hudson left she spent fifteen minutes in her flat loading the laundry and then went south on Baker Street. She walked so her destination is nearby - I'm guessing the market. She normally eats around this time but has been too busy up here to cook anything so she'll probably grab take out on the way home. If I'm not mistaken she'll bring enough for you even though you told her no. The closest place is the sandwich shop but she had that last night so it'll be Chinese. This time of night the line will be moderate but not excessive so I guess we have at least forty-five minutes before she gets back." Sherlock leaned forward and kissed the nape of John's neck, pulling John's shirt off as he did. He had to lean over until he was almost lying on top of John in order to reach.

"Have you just been sitting outside all day waiting for her to leave?" John was confused but the battery of kisses on his neck and chest were distracting him and clouding his thoughts.

"No, only the past 56 minutes." Sherlock set to work attacking the button on John's pants.

"Sherlock, what-" John started, but  it was Sherlock's turn to interrupt questions with kisses. Sherlock put his hands on John's chest, abandoning the fly of John's pants now that the mystery of the button was solved. His tongue probed deeply and insistently into John's mouth and his lips were firm and fierce. John had never been kissed so passionately before. Sherlock set to work softly biting John's lips, systematically working his way around making sure not to miss a single spot. While he was kissing John his hands began to move lightly across John's chest. With a feathery touch Sherlock explored the curves and lines of John's abdomen.

It was like a switch had been turned on in John. He suddenly felt more awake than he had been in months - more alive. He reached up and snaked his hands under Sherlock's jacket, pushing it off of him, and then slipped his hands under his shirt. Sherlock whimpered softly and sat back upright. He swiftly undid his top three buttons and then ripped his shirt of violently over his head. John admired his bare torso and bit his lower lip, not sure where Sherlock wanted to go from there. He didn't want to pressure him into something he wasn't ready for. Sherlock took the cue and took charge, leaning forward once again to give John a long passionate kiss.

After just a short while Sherlock pulled up. John tried to lean forward and kiss him again, like one magnet dragging after another one that's been lifted away, but Sherlock quickly dogged to the side and kissed him on his neck just under his ear. John moaned, his hands restlessly caressing Sherlock's body. Sherlock's hands were busy too, tracing their way lower and lower on John's chest until they came once again to the button on the pants. Slowly Sherlock unzipped John's pants and pulled them down as far as he could, still kissing everywhere he could reach on John's neck and shoulders. John arched up and Sherlock gave another shove, getting the pants down to his knees. John kicked them away eagerly. His boxers followed. Suddenly there was nothing between them but Sherlock's pants and John's quivering manhood. John panted, the anticipation was almost too much to bear. The yellow spray paint on the wall smiled down at them as Sherlock grabbed John's thick member in one hand. He pulled it slowly as he leaned forward again and began kissing John's chest. He lingered on John's nipples, running his tongue around first one and then the other, watching John squirm with pleasure. Almost convulsively John began lifting his hips, thrusting  in an attempt to get Sherlock to move his hand faster.

Abandoning John's nipples Sherlock leisurely began moving further south, leaving kisses like bread crumbs as he went. When he got below the waist Sherlock went for broke and ran his tongue up the entire length of John's cock. When he reach the head he ran his tongue in small circles around the very tip before pausing and regarding the pulsing organ thoughtfully.

"I just don't understand." He finally admitted, taking a second to kiss the head of John's penis. "It's too large. How am I supposed to fit this entire thing in my mouth?" John could not suppress his laughter.

"I suppose you're just going to have to experiment until you find something that works." John smiled eagerly down at him, eyebrows raised.

"Oh you naughty boy, tempting me with science!" Sherlock chuckled for only a moment before wrapping his mouth around John's cock. John caught his breath and threw his head back, collapsing onto the arm of the couch. With each thrust and dive Sherlock fit more of the cock into his mouth, forcing it further and further down his throat. John marveled. No woman had ever before managed to take so much of him. He was frantic with desire, grabbing and releasing Sherlock's shoulder without even being fully aware he was doing it. Sherlock's glorious cheekbones brushed against John's hip bone as his lips finally met the junction when the penis connected and John was not sure he could stand it much longer.

Suddenly Sherlock lifted his mouth off John and sat back, panting. John whined softly, wishing Sherlock hadn’t stopped.

“That was a good deal easier than I had expected. I was unaware of the fact that I have no gag reflex. Now let me examine this more closely.” Sherlock pulled at John, causing him to whimper again and began kissing the head of his cock probingly. He traced his tongue around the head of the penis and under the folds, gently exploring every crevice. His lips moved across it sensually. Sherlock was surprised to discover how much he was enjoying the feeling of the smooth, unbelievably soft skin against his lips. He  discovered the fold of skin down underside of John, like a seam where the angels had stitched his cock together. He flicked his tongue over it and kissed it up and down. John was moaning loudly now, unable to contain his pleasure. When he reached the base Sherlock did not stop but began slowly licking John’s balls. The softness of the skin here was different than on the head of the penis, but no less pleasurable. Sherlock took one ball in his mouth and looked up only to see John gazing down at him, his eyes filled with love and wonder. Sherlock moved to the other side and began stroking John’s cock with his hand.

His right hand preoccupied with stroking John's staff and buried up to his nose in John's balls, Sherlock ran his hand down the outside of John's leg. He slid all the way off the couch and knelt before his lover. Intensely focused on what Sherlock was doing with his mouth John did not notice Sherlock's left hand moving inexorably further and further up his inner thigh. He only noticed when Sherlock began fingering his hole gingerly. At first he was frightened by the thought of Sherlock delving into his depths, not sure he wanted him to continue but not sure he wanted him to stop. He took a few deep breaths, focusing on the pleasure Sherlock was giving him, and willed himself to relax. He trusted Sherlock and wanted to be open to new experiences with the man he loved. Without warning Sherlock slid his finger into John's anus. Inhaling sharply, John was uncomfortable at first but Sherlock waited patiently for John to get used to it before going further. The longer his finger was inside him, the more John enjoyed it. He wanted more. 

"Sherlock..." He managed to gasp, thrusting again trying to make his wishes clear. Sherlock was able to guess what he meant and began pulling his finger out then plunging back in, deeper. It became its own sort of ecstasy, until John could stand it no longer. "Sherlock- oh god Sherlock! I'm- I'm going to-"

Sherlock looked momentarily confused and looked up from where he had been twirling circles around John's ball sack just in time to get a face-full of cum. He leaned back and giggled.

"Well I should have deduced that that would be the outcome here..." He pulled his hand away from John's posterior and put it up to his cheek, tentatively feeling the extent of the mess. John couldn't help but let out a hearty laugh at The sight of Sherlock's bemused expression. "I do have to say though, you have impeccable timing. I'm going to go wash up - you get dressed. Mrs. Hudson will be back any minute."

John wasn't even sure he would be able to move but he struggled to put his shirt and his pants back on. After a few minutes Sherlock came out of the bathroom to find John once again lying on the couch with his eyes closed. He walked over and picket up his shirt and John opened his eyes slowly, smiling up at him.

“When are we leaving for Kentvale?” He asked.

“ _We_ are not. I plan on leaving as soon as I get my jacket out from under your feet, but I need you to stay here. I have a few things I would like you to look into.” Sherlock was looking down at his buttons and didn’t see the way John’s face fell.

John sighed and sat up, leaning towards Sherlock. He wrapped his arms around the taller man’s waist. Sherlock was kneeling on the couch now and stopped buttoning, looking at John with a curious expression on his face.

“Don’t go.” John whispered. “I’ll miss you.” He leaned forward and kissed Sherlock’s exposed abdomen through the unbuttoned shirt.

Barley moving his hand, Sherlock cupped John’s chin and tilted his face up. He looked down into his eyes for a moment, grinning slightly, drinking the moment in. Then the moment was gone and he stood up, moving away. “I have to John. I wouldn’t be going if it wasn’t important.” Sherlock avoided looking at him and quickly buttoned up his shirt. John rested his arms on his knees and studied the pattern in the carpet. Just as Sherlock was picking up his jacket off the couch the door opened and Mrs. Hudson walked in with her arms full of Chinese food.

“Oh, Sherlock dearie! I wasn’t expecting you! Would you like some Chinese?” She scuttled into the kitchen and began depositing Styrofoam parcels on the table. “There should be enough for everyone…”

“No, I’m sorry Mrs. Hudson but I was just on my way out. Don’t wait up – I should be gone until morning.”

Mrs. Hudson stopped what she was doing and turned to look quizzically at Sherlock. She looked from him, to John, and then back again. “Alright darling, just… may I have a word with you – in the hall? Just before you go?”

Sherlock was studiously tucking his scarf around his neck, and didn’t bother looking up as he walked to the door. “Yes, yes, fine, Let’s do that. I have a bus to catch.” She led the way out into the hallway, and just when John thought he was going to close the door without so much as a goodbye Sherlock stopped and turned. “Be here. In the morning. Wait for me – I will come back.” John scoffed and buried his face in his hands but he didn’t think Sherlock heard him over the sound of the door swinging shut or if Sherlock was even listening.

Mrs. Hudson waited until they were all the way down the stairs before she spoke.

“I’m worried about him Sherlock – I don’t think you should leave him alone.”

“Well I’m not leaving him alone, am I? I’m leaving him with you.”

“You know I can’t watch him all the time without him knowing what I’m up to. He’ll send me off or he’ll leave. You weren’t here after- you don’t know what he was like-“

“I do know exactly what he was like. Night terrors. The sudden return of his limp and his cane. Depression, delusions, and three suicide attempts - at least that I’m sure of. I had thought if I gave him some sign, some little hint that I was still here it would help – but every time it just made him so much more upset, like he was watching me fall all over again. He had that same look in his eyes…” Mrs. Hudson pretended she didn’t see the tears on Sherlock’s cheeks. “I had planned to stay away much longer, but he needs me here. I still have a lot I need to do in order to be sure you and John will be safe, so I DO need to go, but please Mrs. Hudson – please-“ Sherlock’s voice broke and he turned to look out the door, “Please just look out for him for the night.”

Mrs. Hudson nodded vigorously and Sherlock struggled to no avail to lift the corners of his mouth up from their severe frown. He nodded back one sharp brusque jerk of his chin, not trusting his voice, and then he was gone.


	2. You Can Keep Your Black Tongue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The song for this chapter is "Black Tongue" by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

John picked at his sweet and sour chicken, unable to lift any to his mouth. He didn’t understand himself at all. He had been so happy – he still was, when he thought of Sherlock alive and well and just existing in the same world with him – but then suddenly Sherlock had left and it felt like all of the light and joy in the world had left with him. Not that John could blame him for going. He was a brilliant man with interesting problems to solve. John was a boring man with a list of names to type into the computer.

He tried to remind himself of the joy he had shared with Sherlock such a short while before. Sherlock had pleasured him and asked for nothing in return. Except for him to stay and do the boring research. And then Sherlock had left a few minutes afterwards. John’s thought followed this circular path for several minutes before Mrs. Hudson interrupted by yanking his plate away from him.

“If you’re not hungry I can just put this away for later. I was thinking I had better get started on washing your bedding now, and then I’ll come back up and we can tackle that fridge. We’ll just throw as much baking soda in there as we can and then wipe it all down in the morning.” Mrs. Hudson stood up and began clearing the table. “Oh, did I mention I’ve been talking with my sister?” She clumsily segued into whatever excuse she was planning to use to spend the rest of the evening in the flat. John guessed she was lonely without Sherlock there.

‘Hm? No, you hadn’t.” John turned towards her.

“She keeps trying to get me to join this – what is it called that all the kids are doing? – Facebook? And You know me, I’m just such a dummy with the computer. Do you think you could show me how to do it after you’re done with your other things? I won’t be a bother and if you can’t do it tonight it’s quite alright…”

“Oh. Um, no that sounds fine. I’ll take care of Sherlock’s things now while you change the wash over and then after the fridge? Yeah, that should be fine.” John found himself mumbling and nodding. It wasn’t as if he had anything interesting that he should be doing that evening, like following leads out in Kentvale....

 

 

In a cold lab, not very far away, Molly was getting ready to leave for the evening when suddenly her phone went off.

**Sorry I couldn’t make it myself. Please make Ms. Adler feel at home.**

**-SH**

Molly was so startled she walked into a table and dropped her purse to the floor.

Molly dropped to her knees and scrambled after her personal items. She had been so looking forward to seeing Sherlock this evening. She was wearing a less-than-practical pencil skirt and her feet were starting to blister in her stiletto heels. She was very proud that she had made it through the day without twisting an ankle, but now it hardly mattered. She spied her favorite lipstick far underneath the table she had bumped into. Stretching lithely like a cat, her rump sticking up out into the aisle, Molly strained to reach it.

"Well well well, what have we here?" A lilting feminine voice asked from behind her just as Molly's fingers curled around the cold cylinder. Molly jerked and pulled back, hitting her head on the table in her haste to stand. She sucked in, ignoring the pain and refusing to check and see if there was a welt. She had always despised being considered weak. 

She turned and faced the woman who had spoken and was surprised by how attractive she was. It wasn't so much that she had a very aesthetically pleasing appearance (which she did,) as the fact that she emanated a certain strong confidence that Molly couldn't help but envy. She was holding the mobile phone Molly had set on the table after bumping into it.

"So he pulled the bait and switch with you too..." The woman glanced at the phone briefly, but the main focus of her attention was Molly. "How very interesting."

"I'm sorry... Who are you?" Molly stuttered and took a step back, not sure what was going on.

"Aren't you adorable!" The woman grinned archly, "My name is Irene Adler, but you can call me The Woman. Or Mistress, if we're having sex." Molly felt an intense heat rising in her cheeks.

"Um.. Yes... Ok, well what can I help you with Miss.... Adler? Uh, that's my mobile, can I just have that back please?"

The Woman ignored her request. "Sherlock told me he was going to show me something  _very interesting_ this evening. I had assumed he was going to tell me how he survived when he fell of the roof. I'm very curious about that." Irene began absently flipping through Molly's message history.

"Oh that? It was a parlor trick. I helped him do it. I could... tell you... please, Mrs...? Adler...? I would really like my phone back that's personal those messages are just for-" Molly lunged forward towards her phone suddenly but was brought up short by a sharp rap on her hand. She hadn't even noticed the riding crop in the woman's hand.

" _Mistress."_ The Woman corrected. Molly did not wince, but pulled back eyeing the woman the way a frightened dog might eye a temperamental master. Her eyes were wide showing the whites like crescent moons of uncertainty.

"But we're not-"

"Not as of yet... I just want to hear it coming from your lips. Try it out. See how it sounds." The Woman lifted the riding crop and gently caressed Molly's face. "You really are a delicate beauty... just like he said."

"Like he said? Who said? Was it-" Molly's eyes lit up and she began to smile but it the riding crop lightly smacked the grin from her lips.

"Bad. That is not how we ask."

"Please tell me who said that..." Molly looked confused and unsure "Mistress...?"

"Better! You're clever too! Oh yes he was very right about you." Molly didn't know what to say or what to do. She began to fidget uncomfortably. "Allow me to propose a deal. Two deals, actually. You tell me how Sherlock survived and I will give you your phone back. That's deal one, which I expect you to accept." Molly opened her mouth to answer but the riding crop prevented any words from coming out. "The second deal is this: survive one evening in my company without chickening out like a spineless little child and I will tell you everything Sherlock ever said about you. If you're still interested in knowing after I'm done, that is. This is an offer that I expect a scared little girl like you to turn down." Irene was the picture of condescension. Her eyebrows and the set of her lips told Molly that she was positive that she knew exactly how Molly would answer. Her assumptions made Molly angry and indignant.

"I am NOT a scared little girl! I am a woman!"

"And a virgin?"

Molly was flabbergasted and offended. "I- why I- I'll have you know that I am a very sexual and sensual person! I am not a virgin. I've even kissed a girl before... once. In school."

Irene chuckled. "So then what's your answer?"

"I will... accept both your offers!" Molly shouted impulsively, trying not to think about what she was agreeing to do and hoping she looked more confident than she felt.

A dark gleam came to The Woman's eyes.

"Wonderful. I'm so glad I brought my things after all... Follow me." She picked up a black bag Molly hadn't noticed on the floor behind her and turned.

They went back through the lab and down into the autopsy room. The room was hardly uncomfortable to Molly, who spent most her days here, but the situation certainly was. "I'm sorry, have you been here before? You seem to know your way around quite well..."

"I know my way quite well around a lot of places. I have a passion for unusual settings... or at least, I have some clients that do." Molly had no idea what to make of such a statement. "Get up on the table." The Woman smacked Molly across the rump with her crop, eliciting a little yip of surprise.

"Here's how this is going to work. I will play with you for one hour. I will give you a brief warning before everything I do, giving you the option to stop me if you wish. We won't do anything you're not comfortable with, but if you stop me I tell you nothing. Any questions?"

Molly gulped, suddenly feeling in over her head. "Aren't I supposed to have some sort of... safeword? Or-"

The Woman laughed. Molly couldn't tell if she was being mocked or if The Woman sounded almost fond of her. "Oh yes. If you say the name 'Sherlock' I stop everything and the deal is off. Now get these off you. I want to see more of that lovely pale skin."

With shaking fingers Molly began unbuttoning her blouse. Everything was happening so quickly, she could hardly take it all in. As she fumbled with shaking her arms out of her sleeves The Woman was busy pulling things out of her bag.

"Get your skirt off then lay down flat. I'm going to tie your arms and legs to the table."

"Ok..." Molly mumbled. Suddenly she felt the riding crop across her cheek, stinging and bringing tears in her eyes. She blinked them away, looking up with shock.

"If you must address me address me as Mistress. 'Yes, Mistress.' 'No, Mistress.' 'Harder, Mistress.' Understand?"

Molly nodded as she kicked off her skirt, rubbing her arm self consciously. "Yes, M-Mistress." She stuttered, laying down.

"Good girl! Arms up."

This time Molly wordlessly obeyed. The woman made short work of tying her wrists down to the legs of the table, then moved to the other end and did the same with her ankles.

"Now I'm going to get out a little toy. It won't hurt you. It will feel very, very good. Once you're feeling good I'll get out another toy. That one will hurt, but I think by then you'll find that pain and pleasure can be very difficult for a brain to distinguish between. And if you don't like it we can always stop. Sound good?" The Woman said it lightly. To Molly it sounded almost like a dare.

"Yes. Yes, Mistress!" Molly quickly caught herself before she felt the sting of the riding crop again.

The first toy was a vibrator. Large and intimidating, Molly was sure she had seen one very similar in a porn she watched once. She didn't watch porn with much frequency, so she wasn't sure. The Woman turned it on and began ghosting it over Molly's pink lace panties. The buzz tingles through her sensitive organ and up her spine. Her heart beat faster and she gasped, surprised at how pleasurable she finds it.


End file.
